Call the Shots (Swim the Fly #3)(101)

And just like that, it’s as though I’ve shrugged a three-hundred-pound wampa off my shoulders. I blink, feeling like I can breathe again. The rest comes easily. “I was in the theater, watching you up on screen, and you were amazing. Like, truly, truly amazing. And I started thinking about this past week and how much fun we had. And kissing you. But even before that, when we were writing the script together. I mean, sure, sometimes you were a total pain in my ass and you made me work way harder than I’d wanted to. But the movie wouldn’t have been half as good as it is without you pushing me and adding your own ideas to the script.”

Nessa smiles shyly. “We did have fun, didn’t we?”

“Are you kidding? Being with you has been the most fun I’ve ever had in my life. Hands down.”

Nessa laughs, and there’s a hint of her old teasing self when she says, “Come on, even more fun than when you and Matt and Coop dressed in drag? You know, we still have those pictures saved on Cathy’s comp —”

“You do not,” I say, a pleased tingling surging through my body despite the very heinous threat in her words.

“If you’re nice to me, I might just go in and delete it once and for all.”

I smile, and soon we’re both standing there smiling at each other just like we were yesterday, when we were wrapping up shooting. “Hey, can I ask you something?” I say at last.

“Anything.”

“When did it change? I mean, when did it . . . you know . . . stop being a game?”

She winces at the word game. “It’s hard to say. I think it sort of started when I found you in the dumpster. You looked so . . . I don’t know . . . vulnerable. And not entirely bad in just your boxer shorts,” she adds with a wicked grin. Now it’s my turn to blush. “But maybe it was before then. Hanging out and getting to know each other. You’re really sweet, Sean. I never really noticed that side of you before.”

I take a step toward her, my heart thumping in my chest. But I stop a few inches from her.

“It’s funny,” I say, glancing around. “I still half expect Cathy to come out of your closet, laughing hysterically and snapping pictures that she can post on Facebook.”

“Cathy coming out of the closet? Are we making gay jokes, now, Sean? Just when I thought you were so sweet and sensitive.”

“What? No. No, that’s not what I —”

Nessa laughs and the sound fills me. “Man, you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Nessa closes the space between us, reaching up and touching my cheek. Her intense green eyes lock onto mine in a way that is desperately hot.

And before I know what’s happening, I’m kissing her beautiful soft lips again. But for real this time. And if I thought those movie kisses were good, well, forget about it. Because this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. Her licorice smell, the taste of her tongue, the gentle sound of her breathing, the metallic brush of her lip ring, the heavy warmth of her cross pendant against my chest. All my senses wonderfully amplified.

Minutes pass. Or maybe it’s hours. Anything seems possible when you’re kissing Nessa in her fairy-tale bedroom.

But at some point, the real world intrudes.

“Whoa, Sean.” Nessa pulls back, her cheeks pink. “Maybe we need to slow down.”

“Oh. No. That’s my cell phone,” I say, reaching into my pocket to try to shut off the vibrations.

“And here I thought it was me,” Nessa teases. “You’d better answer it, though. Maybe they’re calling from the theater to tell you who won.”

“Tell us,” I remind her. “And given how hard people were laughing when I left, I highly doubt that.” But I pull the phone from my pocket and squint at the screen. “It’s my dad.” I frown and click the answer button. “Hello?”

“Sean, where are you?” Dad shouts, sounding like he’s out of breath. “Everybody was looking for you.”

“I’m with Nessa,” I say. “It’s . . . a long story.”

“Well, I don’t even have time for a short story. We’re headed to Walker Medical Center. Your mom was laughing so hard at your movie that her water broke. She’s in labor. Can you take a taxi and meet us there?”

Suddenly my knees go weak. “Yeah, okay, sure. No problem,” I ramble. “Is she . . . ? Is everything okay?”

“She’s fine. She’s good.” Dad sounds like he might start crying. “Keep breathing, hon,” he calls away from the phone, then says to me, “I’ve got to go. We’re having a baby, Sean! You’re going to be a big brother!”

And then the line goes dead.

Nessa’s looking at me with these big wide what’s-going-on eyes. “So?” she says.

“It’s my mom. We’ve got to go to the hospital. She’s having the baby.”





“DO YOU WANT TO HOLD HER?” Mom asks me as I stand by the side of her bed, staring in awe at the tiny little baby girl she has nestled on her chest.

Mom — who looks both sweaty-exhausted and happy-glowing at the same time — has asked that only one person visit her at a time. And since Dad and Cathy were actually in the delivery room for the birth — I didn’t think I could handle seeing what I thought I might see — I get to be the first one to visit with the cleaned-up and swaddled baby.